May 29, 2008

he sits separated from the others,
never understood, never wanted.

they may glance his way, they may smirk.
not that they care. boy ever taunted.

his life is torn apart, everything crumbles.
each hurtful word more painful than the last.

few know his name, ever the loser.
not that they care. boy of the past.

he wants it to end, he wishes he were dead.
he holds the gun...would they notice his death?

he is gone. they wonder where the boy went.
not that they care. they who caused his death.

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